Chris tinkers with figurative language and the metaphysical!
Ok, it's been a while since I've written anything and I really wanted to try and play around with something a bit different than what I normally write. A little backstory to this piece: the main character has been attacked and nearly killed and this piece describes his struggle to stay alive. As usual, I'd appreciate some critique and constructive criticism. So, without further blathering, here ya go:
His body lay broken and bleeding, prostrated and helpless on the floor of the forest. Luckily for him, his mind was no longer there to feel the pain.
He floated on the edges of consciousness, continuously drifting to and from reality. He was having trouble recalling how he got where he was, and even more trouble caring. His mind uncontrollably wandered from memory to memory, both distant and recent, vividly displaying for him some of his life’s most momentous occasions as if he was never a part of them, but rather watching intensely from nearby.
He could feel his very essence fading. The memories began to darken and blur as they continued to present themselves. He could sense death herself leering at him just around the corner. He was ready to meet her.
Death’s cold hands began to reach for him. Her icy essence slowly washed through his body to his very soul. He did not fear it. He had suffered, and now he welcomed her with open arms.
But something was not right. Shrieking protests rang from deep within him. Something pushed at him, assuring him that his rendezvous with death was not yet to be.
She was upon him now, freezing him deep within his being. He was ready, he wanted to, but he could not let her take him. Not yet. The protest was too strong. He had more to do, he was not to die here.
He focused as hard as he could. Through the frozen haze of his soul he willed her away with all his might. The haze sharpened slightly and he could feel small trickles of warmth reach him. He continued his focus - a last ditch crusade to save his life.
Death continued to recede and he warmed slightly. He reached past the rolling memories and the icy wind that struck at him. He had to find his body.
He could sense it now. He was on his stomach. He was not breathing. His heartbeat was faint.
From deep within himself, he urged his lungs to expand. He fought desperately against the bitter cold as he willed himself to function.
He inhaled.
Instantly he was back in his body. His chest burned painfully as it shook itself from the depths of demise to begin its work once more. He inhaled burning, sweet air again.
Then came the pain. Sharp, agonizing pain burst across his entire body. He felt as though his torso had been set on fire. He heard a small, pained whimper escape his mouth.
He had to fight it. He had to suffer. It was not yet his time to cavort with death. He focused harder.
He could feel, now, the sources of the pain. Large, sharp objects were buried deep in his back, sending forth pulses of hellish ache throughout his person. He was cut deeply and bleeding, too. Across his front and his back. Warm blood ran in rivers across his body.
He continued to will himself into consciousness. The pain was worse than he could’ve ever imagined. His bones felt shattered, his tissue torn. He fought through it. He must live.
His eyes opened. He still could not move, but he stared through blurred eyes and tried to figure out where he was. He could not think, his body screamed in agony. He was so tired and in such pain, but he had to escape. He had no choice. He fought as hard as he could, but pain enveloped him. He could not push it off again, he had not the strength. A barely-audible groan escaped his lips, and his eyes slammed shut. Try as he might, prying them open was impossible. His perception quivered, and at once he felt as though he was spinning. White-hot pain crashed into him like waves upon rock. He spun faster. Faster. He was falling now - tumbling through a blank, black abyss. He wanted so much for it to stop. He begged it to stop, begged for death to return to him. He was so scared.
Tears welled in his eyes.
He continued to plunge, all the while being poked and prodded by thousands of burning, sharp needles. At once his consciousness slammed into the bottom of the cavernous abyss he’d tumbled through. The spinning stopped, the pain stopped, and all was calm and silent. Fatigued from effort and from interminable ache, his mind rested.
His body lay broken and bleeding, prostrated and helpless on the floor of the forest. Luckily for him, his mind was no longer there to feel the pain.
He floated on the edges of consciousness, continuously drifting to and from reality. He was having trouble recalling how he got where he was, and even more trouble caring. His mind uncontrollably wandered from memory to memory, both distant and recent, vividly displaying for him some of his life’s most momentous occasions as if he was never a part of them, but rather watching intensely from nearby.
He could feel his very essence fading. The memories began to darken and blur as they continued to present themselves. He could sense death herself leering at him just around the corner. He was ready to meet her.
Death’s cold hands began to reach for him. Her icy essence slowly washed through his body to his very soul. He did not fear it. He had suffered, and now he welcomed her with open arms.
But something was not right. Shrieking protests rang from deep within him. Something pushed at him, assuring him that his rendezvous with death was not yet to be.
She was upon him now, freezing him deep within his being. He was ready, he wanted to, but he could not let her take him. Not yet. The protest was too strong. He had more to do, he was not to die here.
He focused as hard as he could. Through the frozen haze of his soul he willed her away with all his might. The haze sharpened slightly and he could feel small trickles of warmth reach him. He continued his focus - a last ditch crusade to save his life.
Death continued to recede and he warmed slightly. He reached past the rolling memories and the icy wind that struck at him. He had to find his body.
He could sense it now. He was on his stomach. He was not breathing. His heartbeat was faint.
From deep within himself, he urged his lungs to expand. He fought desperately against the bitter cold as he willed himself to function.
He inhaled.
Instantly he was back in his body. His chest burned painfully as it shook itself from the depths of demise to begin its work once more. He inhaled burning, sweet air again.
Then came the pain. Sharp, agonizing pain burst across his entire body. He felt as though his torso had been set on fire. He heard a small, pained whimper escape his mouth.
He had to fight it. He had to suffer. It was not yet his time to cavort with death. He focused harder.
He could feel, now, the sources of the pain. Large, sharp objects were buried deep in his back, sending forth pulses of hellish ache throughout his person. He was cut deeply and bleeding, too. Across his front and his back. Warm blood ran in rivers across his body.
He continued to will himself into consciousness. The pain was worse than he could’ve ever imagined. His bones felt shattered, his tissue torn. He fought through it. He must live.
His eyes opened. He still could not move, but he stared through blurred eyes and tried to figure out where he was. He could not think, his body screamed in agony. He was so tired and in such pain, but he had to escape. He had no choice. He fought as hard as he could, but pain enveloped him. He could not push it off again, he had not the strength. A barely-audible groan escaped his lips, and his eyes slammed shut. Try as he might, prying them open was impossible. His perception quivered, and at once he felt as though he was spinning. White-hot pain crashed into him like waves upon rock. He spun faster. Faster. He was falling now - tumbling through a blank, black abyss. He wanted so much for it to stop. He begged it to stop, begged for death to return to him. He was so scared.
Tears welled in his eyes.
He continued to plunge, all the while being poked and prodded by thousands of burning, sharp needles. At once his consciousness slammed into the bottom of the cavernous abyss he’d tumbled through. The spinning stopped, the pain stopped, and all was calm and silent. Fatigued from effort and from interminable ache, his mind rested.